The description took several minutes—explaining the design, the mechanics, how it should move and function. The chief blacksmith's expression shifted as he listened, moving from interest to confusion to outright surprise.

When Akhil finished, silence fell between them. The sounds of other forges continued around them, but the smith just stared, processing what he'd heard.

"That's..." he started, then stopped. Tried again. "That's a really strange weapon you've described."

"I know."

"Really strange," the dwarf emphasized. "I've forged thousands of weapons in my time. Seen designs from every culture, every era, every fighting style imaginable. But this? This is..." He gestured vaguely, searching for words. "Unconventional doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Can you make it?" Akhil asked directly. "In one day?"

The chief blacksmith picked up the Serpent's core, turning it over in his calloused hands. The light played across his weathered face, highlighting the uncertainty there.

"I'm not sure," he admitted honestly. "The design you're describing... it's complex. Multiple moving parts. Requires precision engineering and magical infusion working in perfect harmony." He looked up, meeting Akhil's eyes. "And with only one day left, I get exactly one attempt. No room for error. If the crafting goes wrong—if I miscalculate even slightly—a core this powerful could backlash. Explode. Destroy the forge, possibly kill everyone nearby."

He set the core down gently, reverently.

"Even if I succeed in forging it," he continued, "I'm not certain it'll function as you imagine. It might be too unwieldy. Too difficult to control in the heat of battle. Too..." He shook his head. "I've never made anything like this before. Can't guarantee it'll work the way you want. And we won't have time to fix it if it doesn't."

Akhil had expected this. The weapon he'd described wasn't standard. Wasn't safe. Wasn't proven.

But it felt right.

"Make it anyway," he said firmly. "Please."

The chief blacksmith studied him for a long moment. "You're that certain? Even knowing the risks? Even knowing we're down to our last day?"

"I am." Akhil's hand moved unconsciously to where a weapon would normally hang at his side. "I've thought about this all night. Considered every option. And this... this is the only weapon that feels like it fits. Like it's meant for me."

"Why?" the dwarf asked, genuine curiosity breaking through his exhaustion. "What makes you so sure this unusual design is right for your fighting style?"

Akhil considered how to explain it. How to put into words the instinct that had guided him to this choice.

"Because I don't have just one fighting style," he said finally. "I adapt. Change tactics based on the enemy, the situation, what's needed in the moment. Sometimes I need reach. Sometimes I need power. Sometimes I need speed or precision or versatility." He met the smith's eyes. "I need a weapon that can adapt with me. That doesn't lock me into one approach."

The chief blacksmith was quiet for another long moment, his experienced gaze assessing not just Akhil's words but the determination behind them.

Then he picked up the Serpent's core again, his jaw setting with resolve.

"Alright," he said gruffly. "I'll do it. Can't promise it'll work, can't promise it won't explode in my face. But I'll try." He pointed a thick finger at Akhil. "But if this fails, if this core is wasted on our last day to prepare, you don't get to complain. Understood?"

"Understood," Akhil agreed immediately. "And thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," the dwarf muttered, already turning toward his personal forge—the one reserved for the most challenging projects. "Thank me if this actually works and if we survive tomorrow." He paused, looking back. "Come back at sunset. If I'm not dead and the forge hasn't exploded, your weapon should be ready."

"Sunset," Akhil confirmed.

"Now get out. I need every second I can get, and I can't have you hovering while I work."

Akhil nodded and turned to leave, feeling oddly lighter despite having just handed over the most valuable core they'd obtained with only one day remaining. The decision was made. The path chosen.

Now he just had to hope his instinct was correct.

And that the chief blacksmith could pull off a miracle in the time they had left.

---

Outside the forges, Seth and Nibo were waiting, both looking excited despite the visible exhaustion on their faces. They'd clearly already spoken to the smiths about their own weapons.

"There you are!" Seth called out, though his usual grin was tempered by the urgency of their timeline. "We were wondering when you'd show up. Cutting it close, aren't you?"

"Had to be sure," Akhil explained. "Couldn't rush this decision."

"Well, we didn't wait," Nibo said, and despite the stress, there was genuine enthusiasm in his voice. "Already put in our orders. They'll be ready by tonight—they better be, since it's all we've got."

"Show me," Akhil said.

"Can't show what's not finished yet," Seth corrected. "But I asked for gauntlets!" He held up his hands, demonstrating. "Reinforced knuckles, magical enhancement built into the metal. I'm already good at martial arts—been training since before the game. But with proper weapons, with gauntlets forged from beast cores..."

"You'll be able to hit even harder," Akhil finished.

"Exactly! And with one day left, I need every advantage I can get. No more worrying about breaking my hands when I punch something armored. No more holding back because flesh and bone can only take so much impact." Seth's eyes gleamed with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. "With these, I can fight properly. Go toe-to-toe with anything. Even Centurions."

"Smart choice," Akhil agreed. Seth had always been a close-quarters fighter, relying on speed and precision strikes. Gauntlets would enhance that perfectly.

"And I asked for a new axe," Nibo rumbled, his deep voice filled with determination. "A proper one. My current weapon's worn out—been through too many battles, too many impacts. The handle's cracked, the blade's chipped, the balance is off. It won't survive tomorrow's fights."

He gestured broadly. "But a new axe, forged from multiple cores, reinforced and enchanted? That'll be something worthy of the fights ahead. Something that won't break when I need it most. Something that might actually hurt those damned Centurions."

Akhil could picture it—a massive war axe scaled to Nibo's considerable size, heavy enough to split armor, durable enough to withstand anything.

"Both sound perfect for you," he said honestly.

"They'd better be," Seth said, the weight of their deadline evident in his voice. "We don't get second chances. Whatever we walk into that tournament with tomorrow is what we're stuck with."

"Right?" Nibo nodded grimly. "We were up most of the night thinking about this. What we needed, what would complement our abilities, what might give us an edge against enemies who've won seventy-four matches straight."

"Same," Akhil agreed, thinking of his own sleepless night.

"So?" Nibo leaned forward slightly, curiosity breaking through the tension. "What about you? What weapon did you ask them to make? With one day left, it must be something you're really confident about."

Both of them looked at him expectantly, clearly eager to hear what he'd chosen.

Akhil smiled mysteriously.

"You'll have to wait and see," he said.

"Oh come on!" Seth protested. "We told you ours! And we're running out of time for secrets!"

"And I appreciate that," Akhil replied, still smiling despite the pressure. "But mine's... different. Unusual. I want to see if it actually works before I explain it."

"Different how?" Nibo pressed. "Different in a 'we have one day left and this better work' kind of way?"

"Different enough that the chief blacksmith wasn't sure he could forge it," Akhil admitted. "Different enough that it might not work at all. Different enough that he said to come back at sunset and hope the forge hasn't exploded."

That made both of them pause, concern mixing with curiosity on their faces.

"Is it dangerous?" Seth asked carefully. "Because we really can't afford for something to go wrong right now."

"Possibly."

"Is it worth the risk? With only one day left?"

Akhil thought about his weapon—about the design, the functionality, the way it would let him fight exactly as he needed to. Adapting, changing, flowing between styles without limitation.

"Yes," he said with certainty. "It's worth it. If it works, it'll be exactly what I need for tomorrow. If it doesn't..." He shrugged. "Then I'll fight with my blood abilities like I always have."

Seth and Nibo exchanged glances, clearly wanting to push for more details but also aware that time was too precious to waste on arguments.

"Fine," Seth sighed. "Keep your secrets. But when we finally see this mysterious weapon tonight, it better be impressive. We're betting everything on tomorrow."

"It will be," Akhil promised. "One way or another, it'll definitely be impressive."

Whether impressively successful or impressively disastrous remained to be seen.

But he'd made his choice. Committed to the path.

Now all he could do was wait until sunset and hope the chief blacksmith could pull off a miracle.

One day left until the tournament.

One day to find out if he'd chosen wisely.

Or if he'd just wasted the most valuable core they'd obtained on a weapon that would never work.

The sun was already climbing higher in the sky, each hour bringing them closer to tomorrow's nightmare.

Time would tell.

And time was almost up.

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